


Run on Gasoline

by aheshke



Category: Feverwake - Victoria Lee
Genre: Canon Related, Gen, Interlude, Oneshot, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fill, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 14:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aheshke/pseuds/aheshke
Summary: Late-night travel on a Durham bus.





	Run on Gasoline

Perhaps it is textbook privilege, as Noam would probably call it, but Dara hates Durham’s buses. He hates the waiting, the dirtiness, the painful slowness of a bus trundling from stop to stop, and the claustrophobia of being tucked up close to so many other people who smell like sweat and greasy food and have far too noisy thoughts. After watching Noam serve meals at the Migrant Center for an hour, Dara had wanted to call for a car back to the government complex, but Noam insisted on taking the bus because of morals or some other self-righteous idea in his head. So now they are waiting for a bus (late, of course) and while Noam stews about the Atlantians, Dara counts stars. It’s harder to count them at a Durham bus stop than from the roof of the government complex—light pollution turns the sky orangey-brown and mutes more delicate constellations like the Pleiades, the sisters lost in the haze.

Dara spots Polaris in Ursa Minor, then the familiar diagonal of Orion’s Belt angling that night above Venus before the bus rumbles up to them at last. As the bus starts forward, Noam finds a seat with the swift smoothness of someone well-practiced with walking in a moving vehicle. Meanwhile, Dara stumbles and grips the handles on either side of the aisle before he slams into the seat next to Noam, his elbow aching from a hit received while the bus was turning a corner.

Noam rolls his eyes. _He looks like a fancy cat dunked in a puddle,_ he thinks with a note of amusement before he turns away and leans his head against the bus window.

Dara resists the urge to hunch into his designer jacket because he refuses to let Noam Álvaro of all people to get under his skin.

He takes out his phone and reads a few missed texts from Ames, the most recent one being:

**where r u?**

He texts back, **with Noam omw,** and the rolling, hesitant movement of the bus doesn’t help to quell the nausea that roils when he pulls up an email app and sees a message from Lehrer outlining their upcoming tutoring schedule. It’s all very clinical— _9 A.M. No fire, no cold—_ but Dara remembers past excursions to the quarantined zone, where magic coils, watches, and waits to strike and is never what it seems, just as Lehrer is not what he seems, no matter how much Noam seems to worship him.

Dara rubs his forehead and considers texting Ames about going out that night when he hears gentle snoring and sees Noam fast asleep, propped against the window, a dark lock of hair flopping over his brown skin.

With Noam’s normally animated face at rest, Dara can almost pretend he is just another stranger on the bus instead of the fiery, stubborn pain in his ass who is mildly obsessed with him and thinks he knows what’s going on between Sacha and Lehrer when he really only knows Lehrer’s half of the story and explaining everything to him is an impossibility as long as Lehrer has him wrapped around his finger.

The bus driver announces an intersection a few blocks away from the government center and Noam is still asleep, so Dara cautiously pokes him once on the arm.

Noam doesn’t stir.  

Dara sighs, because while he doesn’t think Noam would mind waking up to him grabbing his arms in an attempt to carry him back home (judging by some of the more lurid fantasies Noam has had recently), Dara minds very much, and besides, Noam is irritatingly taller and heavier and Dara would look ridiculous even if he attempted a fireman’s lift or something.

Instead, he tries his next idea—elbowing Noam squarely in the ribs.

Noam starts awake with a snarl and glares at Dara, rubbing the spot where he was hit.

Dara holds up his hands and grins disarmingly. “My bad! Not used to buses. And oh, is this our stop coming up?”

 _Asshole_ , Noam is definitely thinking before he pulls the cord for their stop, and then they are blessedly free of public transit again.

 **going out again after noam gets in** , Dara texts Ames as they finish walking to the government center.

**don’t wait up for me**


End file.
